


A Ghost in a Graveyard

by mspeachykeen2012



Series: Graveyard Series [2]
Category: VIXX
Genre: Based on a documentary, Cemetery Community, Graveyard Slum, Love Story, M/M, Romance, Sequel, Time Skips, alternative universe, hard stuff, wontaek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26289796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mspeachykeen2012/pseuds/mspeachykeen2012
Summary: Wonshik is determined to see Taekwoon again*sequel to Grave Digger*
Relationships: Jung Taekwoon | Leo/Kim Wonshik | Ravi
Series: Graveyard Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1910053
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. Age 22

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel to Grave Digger, which I would highly suggest reading before you read this one. It might not make much sense if you didn't since it picks up where Grave Digger left off :)
> 
> Again, same warnings from GD but summarized here: tough and heavy life, addition of city underworld crime, talk of people being relocated against their will, pretty much all around angst. If anything like that is not what you enjoy about a story, I would refrain from reading.
> 
> For everyone else, please enjoy <3
> 
> Raven :)

There were claws digging into his shoulders, as if something had caught him with edged talons. Lifted, head lolling back, Wonshik let himself be taken.

Suddenly there a deafening smack, black eyes screwing together as he felt the remnants of the blow to his head. His double vision slowly merged together in focus, seeing Jiho for the first time. Blinking, he searched around him.

He was in his apartment.

"Wake the fuck up, Wonshik. I don't have the time to explain this shit to…"

There were more words after that but Wonshik felt something thick at the back of his throat, the acidic bile that hadn't quite sank back down into his stomach from the last heaving session. Eyes dropped close again.

"Yongguk, come get this guy."

The two men both hoisted him up and he was sure they were praying for his death as his legs dragged against the carpeted floor. He should have registered the difference between the carpet and the tile as a flag but his still-inebriated mind was a couple frames slow and he didn't realize he was in the bathroom until he was pushed unceremoniously up and into the bathtub.

The faucet turned with a screech and the cold water felt like razor blades raining down on him. Red rimmed eyes popped open and taking in a deep rushed gasp, the water choked him, a combat boot pressing into his collarbone to keep him under the spray.

Wonshik hadn't left his apartment in three days, not since he'd stepped foot in the empty cemetery. He had woken up on the debris filled ground, head pounding with every heartbeat.

He had mindlessly walked home, pulled out a bottle of Stoli and drowned in it.

However, while he was binging on anything he could get his hands on, his two associates were not pleased at having to shoulder his work.

Yongguk raised his black boot, Wonshik distantly aware that he was still wearing them in the apartment which meant he and Jiho had come in ready to get physical if need be.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" came the deep bass of his assailant.

Wonshik coughed, clearing his throat from the rush of water that had been forced into his mouth, shirt dripping freezing cold water. He blinked wet eyes as his lips trembled. The faucet squeaked as it was turned off.

Two pair of eyes watched him.

But Wonshik wasn't ready to talk, not even to them.

-

Leaning into the passenger side window of the cop car, Wonshik nodded at the driver. The man returned it shortly, looking in his rear view window. Then his side mirror.

"I don't know where they went."

Brow furrowing, Wonshik's eyes tightened. Shoulders set, the leather of his jacket flexing easily and the police officer suddenly licked his lips, stuttering out more. But Wonshik wasn't looking for excuses.

"Someone knows something," he interrupted lowly, pushing off of the window frame, taking his time to round the car. He heard the doors lock; the corner of his mouth cocked.

When he landed right beside the officer, he placed his hands on the top of the car, head bowing as the other man looked up.

"I-I asked everyone. They wouldn't tell me so I looked through the records but Wonshik, without a last name, you're looking for a needle in a haystack!" he nearly cried out, pressing his body further into the seat, farther away from him.

Wonshik held his stance, then let himself straighten, looking to his left at the bustle of people on the street.

Sober for the first time in days, he had awoken that morning with the unceremonious taste of Jiho and Yongguk's visit in his mind.

So he made a couple phone calls, starting first with the police. There had to be someone in the public information office who knew where the people in the cemetery slum were shipped off to. There had to be a paper trail. The government couldn't just relocate hundreds of people with no record.

But Wonshik had laughed at his own naiveté.

"I tried, I searched the databases. There's nothing on them."

Wonshik looked down the slope of his nose, black eyes narrowing. "Someone has to know something."

The police officer did not hold his gaze for long, visibly shrinking away as he fumbled with his seatbelt. Or his gun, rather.

With his hand safely on the weapon, the cop raised his quivering glass eyes.

"I can't tell you who. Your boss holds that power, not you. And I am not getting killed over opening my mouth to some enforcer."

-

Wonshik entered his dark apartment, drenched from the rain and struggling to peel his suit jacket off.

The sole clock in the efficiency blinked three green numbers at him: 4:02.

Slipping out of his sloshing shoes, he stripped entirely right beyond the threshold of the door. Walking nude, his feet uncurled slightly as the linoleum met carpet and he shook his short hair, scrubbing at his wet scalp before eventually making it to his dresser.

Standing, he heard the sirens of an ambulance, the pounding and pelting of the rain against his building, the distant rumble of thunder.

Tonight, he had begged.

Closing his eyes, Wonshik dropped his hands to his sides.

He remembered the first time he had ever pleaded for something. It had been to return to the cemetery. At just 12 years old, he was just a boy who was starting to realize things about the world around him. He was tired of being hungry. He was tired of going from place to place to place. He was tired of being disregarded and mistreated because of how he looked. He was tired.

Wonshik had dropped to his knees and pleaded with his mother to let him go back—even if it was by himself.

She couldn't understand why there, out of all the places they had been around the country. Why those disgusting cemetery grounds with the overcrowding and those dogs. But her son's eyes trembled as they brimmed with tears and her heart splintered in a corner it hadn't broken before.

His mother took him back to wait until his father gave word that he had a job.

There, he saw the grave digger again.

Wonshik felt those same tears start to bubble in his chest. He had taken for granted that Taekwoon would always be there, waiting.

So tonight, Wonshik had begged again, though not on his knees. Instead, this plea was as a man to another, to the boss he worked for. A man with connections throughout the shadows of the city, who was charitable only with what he was able to exploit.

By that time, Wonshik had exhausted his resources in the police department and now he needed help in finding Taekwoon. So begrudgingly he had asked his boss, a man he had never wanted to get into business with, for assistance.

Mr. Lee's mouth had curled like the tail of a snake and though Wonshik had stared through lowered black lashes, he felt his boss' elation at the request.

"You are one of my better enforcers, how could I say no?"

There was no familial bond between the two though Mr. Lee liked to pretend there was—mockingly. He knew what strings attached to Wonshik's body, which ones hooked through his soul. He would yank them in a demonstration of machismo, or he'd tug ever so slightly in a display of malice.

Wonshik had daddy issues; Mr. Lee liked to call him son.

Taekwoon was worth all of it though, Wonshik's mind reminded him easily as he began to get ready for bed.


	2. Age 23

The lemon colored light hung under a maroon shade, swinging slightly from the bass of the music above them. Yongguk was sitting on the couch in the backroom, legs crossed easily, thin cigarette between his index and middle finger. He tapped once with his thumb, disregarding the small flakes of ash that littered the ground.

Wonshik stared at it.

"Jiho," he croaked, scratching at his throat in diversion. The other looked up from his phone, mouth hanging open—a habit. "Can you not?"

Jiho, for all it was worth, lowered his eyes into a glare then rolled them, looking back down to his phone. He continued kicking at the leg of the chair, Wonshik's teeth grinding in return.

There was silence, save for the slight scrape of the chair leg against the tile floor, as the three of them waited for their payout. It was no different than many of the other nights since he had been with Mr. Lee's group.

Except it was.

Wonshik had been waiting to hear back for months now and as he listened to the rhythmic _screek_ of the chair, he closed his eyes. Maybe tonight—

"Fellas," Jiyeon said easily, appearing in the doorway as she effortlessly held three folded stacks of bills. Jiho's eyes brightened, a mischievous smile curling his lips. Yongguk looked interested but not too much so—his distraction was still on whatever had crossed his mind when he started smoking his cigarette. Wonshik waited to hear anything— _anything_ that related to his request. Each night that passed was filled with dread, an uncomfortable awareness that he had something unresolved and he wouldn't be able to move on until he found him.

"Wonshik," Jiyeon said softly, holding out his bills. Hesitant fingers reached for it, then paused as she snatched it back at the last moment. Wonshik kept his hand extended, reminding himself to breathe. "Mr. Lee wants to talk to you."

She tossed his money over to him, then turned and disappeared.

Wonshik was out of the room a minute later, nearly in a run down the catacomb like hallways.

Mr. Lee was eccentric and had built his club and its passageways to resemble those of a crypt. Wonshik knew them like the back of his hand by now and easily arrived in front of the large red door, taking a shallow breath followed by another, more deliberate, one.

His days had been filled with Taekwoon for so long he had hard time remembering if there was ever a time he hadn't. He had different scenarios planned out: if Taekwoon had been sold into labor slavery, he hoped they fed him enough. If he had gone to another city, he hoped he was surviving. If he had met a worse fate than those, he hoped Taekwoon could hold out just a little bit longer.

Wonshik was coming for him, he just had to be a little more patient.

The door creaked open and Mr. Lee was behind a big, ornate desk. There was nothing on it except for a glass of dark rum and a pen. He was leaning forward, telling a story with his hands and he didn’t flinch when Wonshik appeared.

"Sit," Mr. Lee said fluidly, pointing to a chair right in front of the desk before finishing his tale. It was about a girl and Wonshik effortlessly tuned him out, eyes watching the oak wood walls, listening to the outside music hum throughout the room.

Eventually, Mr. Lee sat back in his chair and spread his arms, satisfied with himself and his story and with—it seemed—his good news to share. With an undetectable head nod, the 1990's reggae dancehall music grew louder in the main club, their conversation now essentially muted.

Mr. Lee suddenly pressed something to the desk, sliding it over. Glowing eyes watched carefully before he asked, "Is this him?"

Wonshik's spine tightened, almost like gears that had suddenly clinched up. His gaze fell down to the desktop, to the photograph that was pushed towards him.

Mr. Lee was nowhere near the top of the food chain when it came to organized crime or the black market. He was small fry compared to the larger, intricate administrations. But what he was good at—why he was able to run this city the way he did—was his tenacity. He was the beast in the fight that did not stop until he had the tissue of his opponent's jugular stuck in between his teeth.

The police officer was right, knowing only Taekwoon's first name was certainly like finding a needle in a haystack. But Mr. Lee had diligent men and when Wonshik searched that photo and saw the side profile of Taekwoon's face, his long body shrouded in sunlight as he stood outside a village market, his jaw unlocked and dropped.

Even after eight years, he still looked the same.

Lean, head hanging slightly, hair as black as midnight.

It was a grainy photo from a phone but it didn't matter—someone was close enough to him to take it. Which meant he was alive.

"Where is he?"

A shadow crossed Mr. Lee's face, as if he was expecting a thank you. Then he smiled.

"I always liked you."

Wonshik swallowed though he didn't say a word. Just reached for the glossy photo, hating that he was bearing a side he shouldn't, but as his thumb passed over it, the immense relief that Taekwoon was _still_ _alive_ suddenly made him emotional. His throat worked a little harder.

"I will answer your question if you answer mine," Mr. Lee hummed, eyes lighting up in the near deep brown of the room. Wonshik didn't look up but nodded anyways, biting on his lips.

"Who is this to you, Wonshik?"

The way it slithered from his tongue made Wonshik's heart stammer and his bones to steel. He knew he was dealing with the devil but it would be worth it—it _was_ worth it to see Taekwoon still breathing.

"We grew up together."

"Hm," Mr. Lee chuckled. "How cliché."

The older man slowly leaned forward, waves of heat wafting from him to settle over Wonshik's shoulders. His energy turned dark. "Now, try again."

Black eyes raised. "He's a friend."

"Friend?"

Wonshik swallowed around the knot in his throat. Mr. Lee wanted this so bad he could taste it and Wonshik refused to give him any more power. But…

Taekwoon was worth it.

"He's very important," he whispered, trembling eyes dipping back to the picture in his clutch.

Settling back in the old chair, Mr. Lee was exuberant. It had been a great day and he interlocked his fingers behind his head. Nodding over to the man on his left, there was another photo given to Wonshik, eyes studying it immediately.

On the back were directions.

"Where… where is this?"

Mr. Lee laughed.

-

Wonshik's 24th birthday was the next day. There was snow coming down and it was late in the afternoon, though the clouds were a dark kind of white that seemed endless and thick.

He had, however, been prepared for this. What Wonshik hadn't prepared for was the trip to finally find Taekwoon, the arduous process of getting to him. He had to take a train out of the city, then a bus into the country and then a once a day makeshift shuttle into the remote village.

From there, they walked the remaining two miles.

He remembered what the city staff official had said: the government knew what they were doing.

This wasn't remote, this was isolation. As Wonshik trudged over frozen ground through the woods, he tightened his jacket around his ears. His guide, someone from the area who now worked in the city, walked in front of him. He had been the man to find Taekwoon the first time and he spoke with a dialect so unrecognizable that Wonshik didn't even listen to his words anymore. Just nodded and went along.

The man, whose name he didn't bother to remember, suddenly voiced something, pointing and Wonshik followed his outstretched arm. The tip of his index finger landed on a small outcropping of trees.

His breathing started to materialize in front of him as Wonshik's chest heaved. The frigid air tightened his airways and for a second, he had the bad idea of running.

It was like when he was 16 and he remembered holding Taekwoon in the cemetery. It had been the first time he had ever touched someone so intimately and he could remember the way the older boy had looked at him. Like there was only him, in that great big slum and those hundreds of people, only Wonshik existed. Taekwoon, who could want anyone, wanted him. It was the first time he ever felt special.

Wonshik suddenly clammed up right outside of what he now recognized as tents. It was a small city of them, scattered closely throughout the wooded areas. They were strung up using branches and lower limbs, looked almost military grade.

There was smoke—an earthy burnt smell that reminded him of the endless journeys when he was a child. Down to the south, back up to the North. Stopping at every place in between. Repeated as if on a loop.

It immediately gave his stomach a jab and Wonshik's adam's apple bobbed. He looked back to his guide.

"Stay out here."

The man, whose age was relatively unknown, looked like he was going to say something. He did not though, just watched as Wonshik started into the camp.

There were small fires all over the place, the PVC nylon and cloth tents dotting the flatter spaces of earth. Some were even connected, lines of larger makeshift homes. There were people talking, wrapped in clothing. There were groups around the fires, some cooking, some warming themselves. There were dogs barking here, too, in addition to the sounds of chickens.

Taekwoon had survived. This group of people had been relocated to the cold mountains of the country and had still carved out an existence.

Wonshik felt himself smile with relief.

Taekwoon was alive.

He knew this especially, because Wonshik was staring right at him.

Taekwoon had layers of tattered clothes, his head covered in a blue hat though his nose was pink at the tip, matching the red of cheeks. His arms were full of wood, kindling mainly. He looked as if he had grown since Wonshik last saw him.

Spreading his mouth in a smile, he greeted his old friend.

Taekwoon watched him with eyes slightly set back in his face, grey bags puffing below them. His lips parted as he stood there, frozen.

Wonshik took a step forward, a mere meter away from Taekwoon now.

"Grave digger," he breathed, a puff of air accenting the sentiment.

Taekwoon blinked, shaking his head faintly.

"No?" Wonshik chuckled and he felt young again, like when he had realized that while his father losing his job meant they would be on the road again, it also meant he would be going to back to the cemetery. His mother, after initially not liking the graveyard community, had grown to miss it. It had its draw and for nomads like them, there was always a certain allure to settling.

For Wonshik, it had been Taekwoon.

In this frosty forest near the country border, Wonshik held those same feelings, watching as the older man took a small step back.

"What are you doing here?"

His gentle voice brought sudden tears to Wonshik's eyes, the young man trying his best to hold it together but he had always been emotional. His father had despised it—not because he thought Wonshik weak, but because in the life they lead, it would cause him to worry endlessly. Emotional people were usually taken advantage of. And in Wonshik's case, that was certainly true.

"Wonshik," Taekwoon repeated and it was the same as it had been years ago. Even though the other had aged, had become a little gaunt and trigger-shy like a deer, his voice was still quiet and soft and calming. Wonshik closed the gap between them.

He felt Taekwoon's hands vehemently push him away, forcing the thin sticks against his chest as he started to walk backwards. Wonshik waited a moment—a long moment—before chasing him, mouth hanging a little bit.

"Taekwoon—"

"Go home."

Wonshik's steps were not in sync with each other and he felt himself skip a couple paces as he fought to keep up.

"Why are you being like this? I found you—"

"Why?"

Wonshik reached out to grab at Taekwoon and realized he was skin and bones, finding through the layers of clothing a slender wrist. His grip loosened but he did not let go.

"You're not happy to see me?"

Wonshik had at least stopped Taekwoon from fleeing, but he had still not turned around.

This wasn't like before. Here, it was just cold and smelled of smoke and sap. Here, it felt more dead than the graveyard.

Wonshik tugged, meaning to bring Taekwoon close but he released him instead, scared he was going to break something.

"I thought you were going to be happy to see me," Wonshik spoke quietly, the soft clamoring of the others in the camp falling away as Taekwoon looked over his shoulder. His lips were slightly grey and he brought them into his mouth. "I went back and you were gone so I looked everywhere."

Taekwoon blinked heavily.

Wonshik got closer. "I thought about you every day and every night, you don't understand," he found himself defending. "I thought it was going to be like it always was, when I stepped into those gates and I smelled you—"

"I convinced myself you didn't exist," Taekwoon whispered, finally turning around to pin Wonshik with wounded eyes. "Why would I be happy to see a ghost?"

Wonshik didn't allow him to escape this time, grabbing the edges of his large coat and wrapping it around Taekwoon, forcing him against his body and into his jacket. Their chests pressed together and Wonshik felt frigid hands hover above his body for a split second, as if Taekwoon wasn't sure if he should. Then, fingers gripped into his sides and he stepped closer, their cheeks sliding against one another's.

Their breaths came raggedly and Wonshik felt his own fingers dive into Taekwoon's oily hair, knocking his hat away, bringing his face even closer.

There. There it was. Taekwoon's scent traveled deep within Wonshik's nostrils, his entire body curling as he took a long breath in. There he was.

As if it had been night for years, there was suddenly light behind his eyelids and they squeezed shut.

"You're fucking freezing," Wonshik eventually whispered, nose brushing against the ice cold edge of Taekwoon's ear. He lips grazed against his sideburn, pursing involuntarily.

Taekwoon didn't say anything, just breathed softly as he burrowed into Wonshik and his jacket. His shoulders were shuddering and it made Wonshik hold him unbearably tight, starting to rub his hands along his back.

He could feel the knots in Taekwoon's spine, the thin muscles and when he felt hot tears against the sensitive skin of his neck, Wonshik's mouth set.

"Come back with me." 

-

Wonshik accepted the tea from Taekwoon's sister, sitting cross legged within their tent. It was long and it was definitely military issued as its rectangular shape housed an area with mats and an area for food storage. It was smaller than the cemetery shacks but there were only three of them now, so it fit.

"Where is your mother?"

Taekwoon's sister looked to the flap of burlap that split off the sleeping area, where Taekwoon's father was currently lying down, his son bringing him something to eat. Her eyes pinned Wonshik's again and she placed a single finger against her lips.

"She left," she whispered. "Our younger sister ran away when we were forced to move and my mother couldn't take it anymore."

Wonshik nodded, looking over to where Taekwoon had disappeared.

"My dad hasn't been the same since and Taekwoon has really stepped up in his place," she finished, making sure Wonshik's eyes were back on hers. "Will he be able to work?"

"What… what do you mean?"

Taekwoon's sister perked up at the rustle behind the makeshift curtain. "Will he be able to make money? Can he get a job and then send his earnings back?"

Brow starting to crease, Wonshik had to remind himself that they lead a very different life than he. This was not uncommon—they were going to let him go because he could then support them.

But before he had a chance to respond, Taekwoon's sister smiled tenderly. "He won't leave unless he thinks it'll help us. As much as he loves you," she mumbled with a little bit of a blush, "he won't abandon us the way our mother did."

Wonshik's cheeks burned and he took a sip of tea to hide his embarrassment. Then he nodded, looking up with a stern face.

"Of course. And I'll be sure to—"

"You don't have to take care of us," she interrupted, her back straightening though she hurriedly finished her sentence. "He'll do that. You just take care of him."

Taekwoon swept back the curtain with a half full plate, handing it to his sister who easily placed it aside. Eyes slid over to Wonshik's and he tried to convey some sense of comfort. But Taekwoon's swollen eyes, pink from crying, didn't fully trust him and he sat beside his sister instead.

"Wonshik and I were talking—"

"I can't leave him," Taekwoon cut her off and Wonshik slipped into the background. "He barely eats, what are you going to do by yourself?"

Taekwoon's sister, his eldest if Wonshik remembered correctly, laughed, rolling her eyes. It was warmer inside the tent but it was still quite chilly, especially since he had offered his jacket to Taekwoon's father. The older man had smiled at that.

"Taekwoon, we need money. If you go with him, you can get a job and then send it back to us. Wonshik," she said, motioning over to him. "He said he'll make sure to have it hand delivered, that way it gets to us and only us."

His sister was referencing something that only they knew, something about the way things were working in the camp and it just made Wonshik's resolve to get Taekwoon out even stronger.

"Every month, I can have someone travel up here and meet with your sister. You'd have to be discreet, but at least your family can get what they need and save the rest," he said, putting his mug down on the blanket beneath them.

"How?"

Taekwoon's voice had taken on an edge, that of a cornered animal baring its teeth. He didn't want to leave his family, he silently told Wonshik.

"How do you think I found you after all this time?" he asked, mouth curving. At the other's skeptical look, Wonshik found himself smiling. "If I have to deliver it myself, I will."

The older man considered the words, eyes raking over Wonshik's features. Then Taekwoon turned his face towards his sister.

"Save the money. Use only what you need and then by summer, I'll come back for you," he murmured, leaning into her. Her mouth pursed as their foreheads met and she nodded.

"We'll be fine until then, I promise."

There was a moment before Taekwoon's shiny eyes pierced Wonshik. "OK."


	3. Age 24 - Part I

Time had not been good to Taekwoon.

It brought despair and anguish, more so since they were forced to leave the cemetery. His life had been interwoven among the dead for so long, he didn't know how he'd be able to function anywhere else.

But he had—he had _to_ , and he had done it with the weight of his family on his back.

And now, Wonshik had magically arrived, asking why he wasn't _happy_ to see him.

He still had that same lilt that always made Taekwoon second guess himself—asking if this was real. Why would handsome, approachable Wonshik care about him?

But when they were young, he had. And Taekwoon had felt himself get lost in his thoughts of Wonshik's return every single time. Even as years passed and the doom was starting to become imminent—the talk of the eviction, the beginning of the exodus. Even as the time came for them to leave, Taekwoon had started convincing himself that Wonshik would somehow show up before time ran out.

He hadn't.

Taekwoon looked beside him, Wonshik's outstretched legs crossed at the ankles as he slept in the train seat. Then he watched out the window at the blur of white and grey that suddenly turned into black. His fingers squeezed and he felt Wonshik before he heard him, his body heat shifting towards Taekwoon as he blinked awake.

"What's wrong?" he mumbled, hand squeezing back, before it was placed in his lap so the other could wrap around it as well. It had been a small gesture, the moment the train had lurched forward and Wonshik had looked back in that genuine way he always did. He wouldn't make fun of Taekwoon for being afraid, wouldn't even point out that this was probably his first time on a locomotive. Instead, he would silently support him, his warm hand grabbing Taekwoon's.

The older man didn't have it in him to let go.

"Is this a long tunnel?" Taekwoon whispered refusing to look out the window, focusing instead on how Wonshik's left eye still drooped slightly because of that scar. Taekwoon followed the indent from the top of his eyebrow to right below his eye.

Wonshik's mouth twisted slightly, pink dusting his cheeks as he moved his face out of sight, obviously uncomfortable with his scrutiny of it. Taekwoon suddenly remembered kissing him.

_"Have you ever kissed anyone?"_

_13 year old Taekwoon shook his head, then bit his lip at the very prospect. Wonshik had laughed softly._

_"What—are you saving it for someone?"_

_The older boy, just by a year, looked off at the dying sun. Wonshik was leaving that evening, his father preferred his family traveling by night it seemed. And the boy had honored what Taekwoon had asked: that he say goodbye this time._

_Now they were sitting atop the graves, watching the sun. An autumn breeze flew around their heads and he remembered tilting his face up into it._

_"Maybe."_

_Chuckling, Wonshik picked at the bottom of his shoe, a piece of rubber hanging off. He looked out of the side of his eyes._

_"Your first kiss doesn't matter, you know."_

_Taekwoon raised an eyebrow._

_"It's true. You should practice, to make sure that when you do kiss that certain somebody, it's perfect. There's nothing more embarrassing than—"_

_Their lips met awkwardly, mainly because Wonshik had been mid-word but he rectified it easily, a hand coming to Taekwoon's cheek to hold him there as he closed his mouth against his._

_They breathed slowly as their lips pursed against each other's._

_Taekwoon pulled away, snatching his lips into his mouth to hide his smile as he leaned his chin against a leg he pulled up to his chest. Wonshik openly grinned at the last sliver of the sun that day._

Their eyes met for a moment in time, something familiar though they both had aged so significantly. Taekwoon turned away first, facing the window as the train sped out of the tunnel. It was light again, white and grey and green, and it restored some of his faith.

He also pulled his hand from Wonshik's.

The younger man hummed, slinking back down in his seat. Again, his ankles crossed each other. His boots were covered in mud that had since thawed, and he was left in just a long sleeve shirt since he had given his nice down jacket to Taekwoon's father. His body was now that of a man's and his clothes—his nice clothes—seemed to reflect his new life.

Wonshik found Taekwoon's interested eyes with his own.

His smile was lopsided and tired.

There was a bit of silence, the rocking of the train creating a nice movement, a lulling motion and for the first time since seeing Wonshik, Taekwoon felt comfortable enough to rest his eyes. Leaning his head against the window, he watched the outside world pass them by until his eyes lowered.

-

Wonshik's apartment was pitch black, the last source of light thinning as the door sealed close behind them. Taekwoon's steps stalled in the threshold.

"I know," the younger man mumbled behind him, almost so low it was inaudible. Taekwoon blinked, tightening his jacket around him.

Wonshik had bought it for him, telling him in a frustrated tone that he was not going to have Taekwoon walking around the city without a jacket. But it had been so long since he had a substantial coat that he was starting to run hot, sweat dotting the nape of his neck.

He watched—rather, heard Wonshik strip of his layers, all there right in the foyer, toeing out of his shoes before he leaned over.

Suddenly a dark yellow light flooded the small room. Just four walls and it was amazing how big it felt, how tall it felt compared to a couple seconds ago when they had been blanketed in the dark. Taekwoon found himself staring at the ceiling.

The squeak of something across from him drew his eyes down, his nose as well. It smelled like Wonshik's body in the small apartment. It smelled like he was pulling Wonshik's shirt over his head and his head hadn't quite made it through.

It was near suffocating—because there were no windows. There were just walls and Taekwoon hiccupped slightly as he opened his mouth in a larger breath.

Eyes narrowed in on the other side of the room, where Wonshik stood half naked, broad back flexing as he rummaged through drawers. He could see the lip of his underwear right above the waist of his jeans. The sight alone made the next breath come easier, his body relaxing as he saw the muscles fluidly shift beneath caramel colored skin. Taekwoon inhaled through his nose this time.

"We can get you some clothes tomorrow, I am sure," Wonshik began, turning his head to find Taekwoon still stuck in the entrance. Warm eyes sagged slightly. "I know," he repeated again. This time, he walked slowly, hand gripping a couple articles of clothing. Settling in front of the older man, he held them out.

"The bathroom is in there," he spoke softly with a subtle move of his head and Taekwoon nodded but didn't take his eyes off him. Wonshik pressed the fabric against his unmoving figure. "Take your time."

Fingers grasped the clothing, dirty nails scraping against the back of Wonshik's hands.

He told him about the shower—if he wanted to take one, that is. Taekwoon nodded.

Then he showed him with his hands how to work it, smiling as he repeated the action on an invisible shower faucet. Taekwoon nodded again.

"I'll get it started for you," Wonshik grinned, disappearing from view and Taekwoon nodded, closing his eyes this time.

-

In the shower, with the glorious feeling of the warm water, Taekwoon remembered this Wonshik. Remembered the gentle boy who came and went with the wind. He remembered the way he felt and smelled and sounded. Like the water rushing over his skin, in that cramped bathroom with the off white light that hurt his eyes, he suddenly remembered Wonshik all over him.

The ghost he had made up, the one who haunted the graveyards, had been real.

The person sitting in the room just beyond that door was real...

Right?


	4. Age 24 - Part II

_Bleary eyes fluttered, sensing Wonshik's form hovering over him. He could tell by his heat, the feel of his energy. He was smiling in the dark, fingers running through Taekwoon's long hair._

_"Baby," was murmured against his mouth and he distantly remembered the taste of cigarettes. Taekwoon's hands reached for the face in front of him._

_"I'll be back—just gotta get something, ok?" Wonshik whispered, then after a moment of silence kissed him again. "Do you believe me?"_

_Taekwoon was still dreaming, gripping at the younger boy's ears. He murmured his yes._

_There was another kiss—this one to his forehead and the urgency behind it, the trembling of the lips scared the half sleep Taekwoon. His hands fell away and he was left alone, easily falling back into slumber._

_Wonshik did not return the next day, nor the day after. Week after week passed by. Even as Taekwoon stood by the gates, watching the outside world move along, Wonshik did not come back._

_Even as Wonshik's mother arrived, her aura ragged. Taekwoon waited all day then finally broke down and asked her where her son was._

_She shook her head, a wilted flower of a face staring back at him._

_"How the hell should I know?"_

_Taekwoon waited._

_And waited. And waited and waited and waited. For years he waited for Wonshik's return._

-

_Eight years would pass before he saw Wonshik again, standing in that dead camp among the trees. His face was warm with blood and he was_ smiling _at Taekwoon, like no time had passed. He reminded him of that little boy who came to the cemetery for the first time, the one who watched him wash the graves._

_His ghost was smiling at him and there was a brief moment where Taekwoon wanted to smile back. Because something was better than nothing._

_"Grave digger."_

_Taekwoon's skin bristled._

_That voice was very much real._

Blinking, Taekwoon stared at the ceiling, opening his eyes from the thought.

The bed beneath him molded to his edges comfortingly.

Wonshik took a deep breath from the chair across the room, his body trying to find a comfortable position again.

"What do you want from me?" Taekwoon finally asked.

He could hear the pause in breath, probably the surprise from the sound in the otherwise quiet room. There was a lot of noise outside the apartment but inside that pitch black room, there was only their breathing.

"I don't want anything—"

"You don't track down someone for nothing, Wonshik."

Taekwoon had slices of memories living in his head, their time together littering the floor of his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut as he waited for Wonshik's reply.

"I want to make sure you're… ok."

"Safe?"

"Yes," Wonshik breathed, almost as if it was the exact word from his own tongue.

"Because you feel guilty?" Taekwoon murmured.

There was another pause and Wonshik sniffed. Taekwoon closed his eyes, darkness comforting him as he heard the emotion seep from the other side of the room.

"If anything had happened to you, I would have…" Wonshik took a steadying breath. "I should have come back."

But he hadn't, Taekwoon thought, feeling his own emotion lap at his eyelashes.

"I am so sorry, Taekwoon. I am s- _so_ sorry," Wonshik suddenly whimpered, sniffling wetly and there were hands shooting deep behind Taekwoon's ribs at the sound, twisting and curling. His lips parted as he felt the first tear squeeze out, slipping down to his sideburn, tickling his ear.

"I'm sorry," came weakly from the shadows. Then, "do you believe me?"

Taekwoon's wet eyes opened, watching the dark.

_Do you believe me?_

"No… but I'm here, so."

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was very nervous to post this originally because I know how we all are about happy endings, haha. BUT the nice part is it sets up the chaptered spin off quite nicely, right? donthateme:)
> 
> Whether you want to box my ears or not, I do hope you enjoyed this. It was nice writing Wonshik's POV as a current (for the most part) perspective. Plus, we get to see a little of what Wonshik has gotten himself into since leaving Taekwoon.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you check out the spin off if you did enjoy the last two fics. And as always, thank you for reading and giving this a chance :) <3 -Raven


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